Plant the Seeds
by MissMandS
Summary: The hobbit that answers the door is not Bilbo. She has the same curly hair and hairy feet as him but this one has a look about her Dwalin has not seen for years. It's the look of a new parent, one who hasn't been getting much sleep because their newborn is keeping them up at night. He's no expert at telling the ages of hobbits but this one seems too old to be having babies. Mpreg.
1. Chapter 1

The hobbit that answers the door is not Bilbo. She has the same curly hair and hairy feet as him but this one has a look about her Dwalin has not seen for years. It's the look of a new parent, one who hasn't been getting much sleep because their newborn is keeping them up at night. He's no expert at telling the ages of hobbits but this one seems too old to be having babies; too many streaks of silver through her hair, the bags beneath her eyes a little too dark and her eyes just a little too tired.

"How can I help you?" Her voice holds no disgust or annoyance that two dwarves are standing, uninvited no less on her doorstep.

"Is Bilbo here?" Fili asks, tone ever polite. Dwalin catches her face harden just the slightest, her lips pursing and her eyes narrowing before it softens and she's looking apologetic.

"I'm afraid not, he took Frodo for a walk. It's been difficult for Bilbo these days since his return. He spends more time outside of the house than he does he inside." And again her face hardens, this time with worry that Dwalin recognizes as a mother's worry for her child. It's one that he'd seen on his own mother's face many times before and his stomach knots itself up, his chest clenching as his throat tightens.

"Bilbo's your son?" His voice is raw.

"Is my face really that easy to read master dwarf?" Dwalin's smile feels as raw as his voice and the woman steps aside, gesturing for them to come inside.

It's over tea and a scolding for not wiping their boots off before they came in that Dwalin and Fili meet Belladonna Took. She bustles around the dining room, setting out plate after plate of food until the table is threatened with being covered. She sits down with a small sigh and rests her chin in the palms of her hands, staring down into her tea which sits untouched.

"Tell me what happened to my son on the quest. Bilbo refuses to tell me about the battle, about his injuries, what caused them or how badly they will affect them. Bilbo has told me about the trolls and Rivendell, goblin tunnels, skin changers, Mirkwood and even the dragon. But after that Bilbo refuses to tell me anything."

"Things became complicated in the mountain. Dragon sickness came over my uncle and he…" Fili trails off as Belladonna looks up from her tea.

"Thorin tried to kill your son." Belladonna doesn't scream or demand for them to get out. It's worse because her voice is chillingly calm as she speaks.

"Tell me what happened in that mountain."

They take turns speaking, picking up when the other ones voice falters or stutters. With each word Belladonna grips the edges of the table a little tighter, paling more and more until finally she is ashen.

"Enough!" Belladonna screams. The teacup shatters on the floor, the sound hanging heavy in the air even after the echo of it is covered up by Belladonna's pants. A thin sheen of sweat covers her forehead, her eyes are clenched shut as she slowly loosens and then releases her grip on the table. She steps over the shards of broken glass and walks past them calmly. From the front of the smial Dwalin can hear the door opening and the excited voice of a child.

"Did you see how big it was papa? It was the biggest frog ever!"

"I did see it Frodo, you'll have to tell Sam all about it." Bilbo's voice is unmistakable.

"Stay out of the kitchen sweetheart, I broke a cup and don't want you cutting yourself okay? Did your father let you play in the mud? Go wash your hands." There's a flash of blonde hair and bare feet and then the rhythmic tapping of a cane on the floor. With each tap on the floor Dwalin winces, clenching his jaw tighter and tighter until it aches.

"Do you remember what Elrond told you?" Belladonna's voice is worried.

"He said not to exert myself over long distances and if I was going to be travelling over long distances to bring my cane. We didn't go very far, we just…It acts up whenever I think of him." Bilbo rounds the corner, leaning heavily on a cane and on Belladonna. His face pales and his jaw clenches as he leans heavier on his cane.

"And this would explain why." Bilbo's grip on the cane tightens.

"Bilbo please can we talk to you?" Fili begs.

"If you'll excuse me, I need to lie down." And Bilbo turns away, still leaning on Belladonna.

Fili looks helplessly at Dwalin who gives a halfhearted shrug. Words are not his specialty that is what Balin does, not him. He talks with his axes. But then again Grasper and Keeper are made for chopping the necks off orcs, killing wargs and goblins, not for righting the wrongs that he doesn't have any idea how to right.

When Belladonna returns it's without Bilbo but with a small face clinging to her legs and peering from behind her skirts. She looks even more exhausted than before as she stares at the shattered glass on the floor and then at the face clinging to her.

"Dwalin, Fili, this is Frodo Baggins, my grandson. Frodo go on and say hi." The face steps out from around Belladonna, still clutching her skirts as he does so. Frodo is a small hobbit with a headful of dark brown curls and wide blue eyes that suck all the air from Dwalin's lungs as they look at him. A dimpled smile spreads across his face as he holds one of his hands out.

"Come meet Sam." Dwalin has no idea who Sam is or what Sam is but Frodo is smiling at him. And all he can do is nod and allow the child to slip his hand into his, heart thumping.


	2. Chapter 2

It turns out that Sam is another hobbit child, a ginger haired one that reminds Dwalin of Ori with the way that he tries to muster up a threatening glare only for his chin to wobble. Frodo looks back and forth between Sam and Dwalin then sighs, planting his hands on his hips.

"Sam this is Mister Dwalin." Frodo says quietly when he notices that Sam's chin only wobbles more when he glares at him.

"From Mister Bilbo's stories?" Sam whispers and Frodo nods vigorously. The nod seems to be enough to reassure Sam who steps a little closer, a small smile on his face.

"Bilbo has talked about me?" Dwalin's voice, even though it's raw sounds far too gruff for the ears of hobbit children.

"Uh-huh, he told us all about the dragon and the elves. And he told us about the dwarves. Your brother is Balin, right?" Dwalin thinks of his brother and if he was here, the way his eyes would twinkle and his chest would swell at being acknowledged by the child.

"Aye he is." Dwalin allows himself to be lead towards the garden where the children plop down. Frodo promptly reaches into his pocket, pauses and then looks around and taps a finger to his lips. He gestures for them to lean closer and then pulls out the smallest, most pathetic looking frog Dwalin has ever seen.

"I found him with papa. He said I couldn't keep him in the house but I talked to grandma and she said it was okay for him to live in the gardens." The frog lets out an annoyed croak and Dwalin can't blame the poor creature as Frodo adjusts his grip in an attempt to hold onto it.

"Have you come up with a name for him?" Dwalin asks and holds out his hands. The frog goes willingly, croaking happily even as Frodo and Sam kneel down to look at it, small fingers petting its legs and head.

"Thorin or Smaug. Or Kee." And Dwalin is no longer holding the frog; he's no longer in the gardens, not even in the Shire. But he's running from the dragon, watching as it breaks the door down, he is there staring down Smaug and watching as the beast prepares to turn him into ash.

Dwalin is brought back by a distressed scream from Frodo who watches as the frog hops away from them. Dwalin's hands are open and his throat, dry. He cannot find the words to speak, to say anything even as tears start streaming down Frodo's cheeks.

"You let him go." Frodo sniffles. Dwalin wants to grab him, to tell him that he had to, because couldn't the lad see that there was no frog, that it was only a trick. That it was Smaug, preparing to turn them into ash, to destroy the Shire. Dwalin feels much too big, much too imposing to be around these children now as he lifts his head to look at them.

Frodo is staring at him with tears slipping down his cheeks and his face quickly flushing a bright red. Sam stands beside him, looking at a loss for how to comfort him as Frodo lets out a wail and runs past Dwalin, past towards the house.

"It's about naptime anyways. Sam why don't you head home, okay? Frodo isn't mad at you, I promise." Bilbo's voice is smooth as silk, not giving way to any other emotions. Sam though still looking doubtful about Frodo nods. With a quick hug around Bilbo's legs he's gone, leaving Dwalin alone with Bilbo.

"It's not your fault you know."

"I asked him about names and he told me that he was thinking about Thorin or Smaug or even Kee."

"I haven't told him the bad. I haven't told him everything that's happened. I haven't told a soul about that because it is nothing anyone could handle Dwalin. No hobbit or man or elf or wizard or even orc could handle me telling them the bad that happened. Frodo knows about Smaug and his defeat but the gold sickness? Nothing. Not even a word in his world."

"You think it's wise to hide it from him?"

"Are you questioning my parenting?" There's a yell, the stumbling of feet on the grass and then a hiss through clenched teeth. Dwalin turns to find Bilbo lying on his side, clutching his upper thigh and gulping mouthfuls of air. His face is white as a sheet as he gasps for breaths.

"You don't have your cane." Dwalin realizes and stands up, going to grab at Bilbo only for the hobbit to shake his head, lifting a hand.

"No, no, no. You don't know how to pick me up and you'll…Please Dwalin, go get my mother and my cane. Please." Dwalin can only nod, putting a hand to his shoulder as he hurries for the door.

"Miss Baggins, Belladonna, please. Bilbo fell." Dwalin's shout seems to shake Bag End as Belladonna pushes past him. With his cane in one hand she uses her free hand and grabs hold of Dwalin, tugging him outside.

"I'll need your help. Now just do exactly as I tell you and listen to what Bilbo's body tells you as we help him." Belladonna says as they come to Bilbo. He still lies on the ground; his eyes closed as Belladonna kneels down and runs her fingers through her curls.

"Are you ready to be picked up Bilbo?" A small nod and Belladonna's fingers slow down as she looks towards Dwalin.

"Put your hands underneath his armpits but do not lift him up yet. Wait until I get his cane in his hand and give you the go ahead." Dwalin kneels down behind Bilbo and slides his hands underneath Bilbo's armpits, trying not to wince at the panicked fluttering of the hobbit's heart. Belladonna takes Bilbo's hand and guides it to his cane, trying to get his fingers to grab hold. It's a painful process as his fingers slip off and loosen. Finally they grasp it and Belladonna places her hand over his as she nods as Dwalin.

"Slowly." She cautions as he stands up. Bilbo's grip on his upper thigh tightens and Belladonna holds up a hand, stopping Dwalin completely.

"I'm okay." Bilbo promises and drops his hands, allowing Dwalin to lower him bit by bit until finally his feet are on the ground.

"I can take it from here." Belladonna says quietly and Dwalin steps away as though he's been burned, watching as the two limp into the house together. He stands there long after they've gone inside, long after Belladonna asked if he's coming back in, long after she closes the door, long after the skies open up and start pouring down.

* * *

Thank you so much to everyone who has followed and favorited so far! It is greatly appreciated! For Easter I got the Battle of the Five Armies and while watching it I noticed a particular scene that just struck this idea in me. I won't say which scene as not to spoil everything but I found myself needing this story like oxygen and fell in love with the idea.

Also I'm in major denial about what happened right now. So this is the most major fix it ever.


	3. Chapter 3

The next morning brings the return of Sam and with him the arrival of Hamfast Gamgee. He takes one look at Dwalin who sits in an armchair, feeling entirely too large and out of place, barks out a laugh and shakes his head at Belladonna and Bilbo.

"Are you two telling him horror stories about the Sackville Baggins? It looks like he just faced down Lobelia herself and lived to tell about it." Hamfast laughs.

"No. No visits from Lobelia yet thankfully. I'm sorry Sam but I'm afraid that Frodo is sick with a cold. He can't play today." Sam's pout lasts for half a second before he's looking at Dwalin and then holding his hand out again. Hamfast gives his son a scolding look and shakes his head.

"Samwise, leave the poor dwarf alone. I'm sure he's better things to do than spend the afternoon playing." Dwalin wants to play though; he wants to be outside and away from the stuffiness of the air, away from the unreadable gazes of Bilbo and Fili's looks that are so much like Thorin's. He holds onto Sam's hand carefully, looking at Hamfast almost sheepishly. Hamfast looks from Dwalin to Belladonna, a protective gleam creeping into his eyes as he does so. Belladonna shrugs smoothly, smiling as she gestures towards Dwalin.

"Do not allow appearances to fool you Hamfast. Despite the time I've spent with this dwarf being only a small amount I can tell you that he is honest and kindhearted. He will not cause Sam any harm. And he was promised a playdate." Belladonna stares at him over the top of her teacup until the gardener sighs, looking at the child from beneath his gardening hat.

"I'll allow it…You mind what he says now, okay Sam?" Hamfast's words fall on deaf ears as Sam drags Dwalin from Bag End, telling him to just wait until he tells his siblings and mother that he's met one of the dwarves from Mister Bilbo's stories.

* * *

Dwalin finds himself sitting an armchair with four small hobbit children crawling all over him. Hamson and Halfred perch themselves on his shoulders, tugging on his beard and ears as they talk over him but not directly to him. Daisy doesn't warm up to him quite as fast, sitting on his knee and sending the occasional glance over her shoulder as if scared he'll move without her knowledge. Sam is the only one who really settles into Dwalin's side, smiling all the while. He looks proudly from Dwalin and his siblings to his mother.

Bell Gamgee sits up straight in the chair, her back stiff and her eyes steely. Her sandy blonde curls have been twisted into a bun and he wishes that a hair would fall out of place, something, anything to make her look less threatening. Even the baby resting in her arms does little to make her look less threatening.

"Hamson, would you take your brother and sister outside please? I would like to talk to Master Dwalin." Bell says quietly. The children scamper off him and Dwalin resists the urge to stand up and follow them right outside. He counts the seconds after they're gone, focusing on his breaths as Bell stands and begins to march towards him.

"Here. I've found that holding onto something, even if it's only a baby can do wonders for your mind—keeps you calm sometimes." Bell says quietly as she slips May into his arms. Dwalin's spine seems to melt as he relaxes into the chair, mindful of the sleeping baby's head. Bell lingers there for a moment, glancing over them before she gives a satisfied nod and turns back towards her chair, her gaze slightly less steely.

"I take it that you've been around hobbits long enough to know we can be a race that enjoys pussyfooting around? It's easier to gossip and pretend than to accept that some things are the way they are and that they happened." Dwalin can only nod at her words.

"Bilbo returned from the mountains and the hobbit I knew was gone. He would not talk to us at first, would not talk to his mother. He stared at us like we were these strangers and then walked back to his bedroom where he sat and stared out the window. When we asked him if he was okay and what had happened, he would only rub at his stomach and mumble the words: 'didn't move, didn't move'. There were others in the Shire whose own stomachs were swelling but Bilbo's remained unchanging and all I could do, all any of us could do was pray."

"The day that Frodo moved, it was the tiniest thing. Bilbo said it was between heartbeats in the middle of the night and was only the softest of movements, a small stretch. But he felt it and I woke up to hear him shouting with relief from Bag End." Bell shakes her head as she looks from May to Dwalin.

"I am not one of those hobbits who enjoy pussyfooting around and pretending that something has not happened. Tell me master dwarf, are you Frodo's…I'm not sure if there's a dwarven word for it. There's barely a hobbit word for it. But are you Frodo's other bearer?"

"No, I am not." And the words are so very bitter on his tongue. In his arms May is firm, warm, solid and heavy. She is real. She is breathing. She has a heartbeat. A heartbeat that is rooting him to this chair, a heartbeat that seems to be reverberating throughout this room. It bounces off the corners of the room, wrapping around his head and going down his arms, protecting him, protecting her.

"What's it like?" His voice is raw.

"It is a wondrous feeling master dwarf, to wake up in the middle of the night and hear this cry that is so specific to my daughter. And knowing that she is crying because she is hungry and needs me to feed her or hold her or to just hear my voice. Knowing that my children rely on me to feed them, bathe them, clothe them and teach them right from wrong. And hoping that someday they will return the favor and take care of me, it is an amazing feeling."

"The scariest part for me after the battle was over, was not that I didn't know the condition of my king, if he would pull through or not but that I could not find my brother. That after all we'd gone through it was not old age or illness but the swing of a goblin or an orc's weapon that took him from me. I couldn't find him and I was panicking. And that I could not find," The front door bangs open, startling May awake who pooches her lower lip out and proceeds to let out a wail. Sam runs down the hallway, holding out a frog towards Dwalin with a grin then pales at the look on his mother's face.

"Miss Lobelia is here…" Sam says quietly as the most atrociously dressed woman Dwalin has ever seen rounds the corner, wielding an umbrella like it's a sword. And for a moment he wonders if it's possible this is the mother of Bolg.

* * *

I am under a lot of fucking stress and pressure right now guys. I'm waiting to see if I've passed my anatomy and physiology class. If I don't then I can't take my last class that will let me go into my nursing program. And I'm under the possibility of losing my scholarship. Yep.


	4. Chapter 4

All the warmth previously in Bell's eyes is gone now as she stands up from her chair. She walks with a stiff back towards Dwalin and plucks May from his arms. She doesn't bat an eye at the baby's wailing which continues as the other hobbit woman walks_ uninvited _Dwalin notes into her living room.

"Watch out." Dwalin's gruff voice is low but stops the hobbit woman in her tracks. Her umbrella makes a small tapping sound against the wooden floor, hard and echoing as she spins on her heel to face him.

"Excuse me?"

"You were about to hit young Sam's foot with your umbrella." Her tongue flicks out, going first across her upper and then her lower lip.

"So I was it seems."

"Sam it's weeding day at the Baggins. You know what that means; Miss Belladonna is making blueberry muffins for anyone who wants to help your father in the garden." This is enough to send Sam barreling from the room, yelling for his siblings to follow him to the Baggins residence. Bell continues to jiggle May whose cries have settled as she comes to stand beside Dwalin.

"Dwalin this is Lobelia Sackville Baggins. Lobelia this is one of the dwarves from Bilbo's adventure. Sam has become quite fond of him." Lobelia sniffs, looking completely unimpressed as she sits down in Bell's chair.

"If you ask me adventures are nasty, useless things. Almost as useless as Bilbo is now. I've seen him in the marketplace, struggling to make it from stand to stand even with the use of a cane. And then there's that child of his, wild as his father is I can only imagine what will come when Frodo's older." Fury burns low and warm in Dwalin's gut at her words. And she can see it. Lobelia looks at his locked knees to his curling fists with a sneer curling on her face as she drags her umbrella across the floor. She's dragging this out, relishing in his discomfort and his pain.

"But what can you expect when a child is part Took? I mean look at his mother, it's a wonder that she's held on after all these years. I suppose that it's because she's worried for her son. I would be worried too. He goes running off after dwarves, out of the blue and returns needing a cane and refusing to say a word to anyone. And how could we forget the child that he carried? It grew far too fast and the way that Bilbo wailed and screamed and screeched until the midwives cut it from him?"

"Frodo. His name is Frodo Baggins." Dwalin closes his eyes, keeping them clenched shut as he stands up from the chair. He turns away from Lobelia, twisting away from Bell's hand that reaches for his arm. He will not intimidate these women. He will not scare the baby in her arms.

"His name is Frodo Baggins and that man you speak of, the one who walks with a cane and struggles so through the market is named Bilbo Baggins. He is the one who carried Frodo and struggled with the difficulties that a…A dwarven pregnancy can put on a hobbit's body. And you, what did you do? Tell me, what did you do for Bilbo?" Lobelia doesn't move from her chair as she looks towards Dwalin.

"So you're the other one are you? The one who…Performed the act, tell me was it you who destroyed Bilbo's leg and gave him that cane?" Dwalin grips the sides of his head, determined not to break down, determined not to roar and rave. He will not do this again. He will not shatter mirror. He will not pop the bubble.

"I have loved but once in my life. I held my father on the battlefield as he died; he lay in my arms and covered my skin, my armor, my weapons in his blood. And he told me that I should not pursue it, that I was young and he was not my one, I was young he said. It was not meant to be he said; it will only end badly for you. He is not your one he said."

"I was furious with my father for dying there in my arms, for leaving me so soon, furious that a dragon took my homeland. So I pursued it and Thorin was more than willing to let me court him. He returned my feelings and wanted me to be with him. I wanted to be with him. It became to where we could not breathe right without the other one. Young, we were so young. There were people who we needed a leader, people who would one day need a king. A king who carried the weight and the burdens of his entire kingdom, each charred remains on his shoulder."

"We were so young when we began to pursue the other one that it was bound to fall apart. Harsh words and one too many ales can lead to nights you don't remember. Thorin came to me and told me that he was carrying a child, our child. And you could only imagine the reaction our people would have. In exile, our king carrying a child, the great Thorin Oakenshield! And at the time I did not want the child either. I did not know how to care for one, did not have the skills or the means to care for a child. I could love it and hold it but feed it, change it, bathe it...I could only do so much."

"His sister had just married recently and was eager to be a mother so it was through much discussion and agreements that she and her husband would take the child. I wasn't meant to be a parent I told myself. With each passing day Thorin and I avoided each other more and more, fought when we saw the other. And I was realizing that my father was right, that I was not his one. I was not his one."

"The time came and he…He…I was there when Kili was born. I held him for a few moments and I knew in that moment, I was not meant to be a parent but I loved him. I loved him so very much. And then I saw Thorin's eyes and I saw in them that I was his one. But I was not his. My father was right..." Dwalin clutches his head, faintly aware of the faint sound of sobbing over and over. It's animalistic in nature, closer to a howl than a sob as his shoulders shake. He cannot meet the eyes of either hobbit woman as he continues speaking.

"And the most terrifying part of the battle for me? For me? I could not find Kili, I'd never been his father before and he had no idea that I was anything more to him. But I could not find him. And all I could hear over and over were Thorin's words: 'am I not your king? Am I not your one?' and just like he did so many years ago, Dwalin flees from the Gamgee house in a sprint.


End file.
